


For the Love of Winter

by dreaming_baka



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, how does anything work, it's so much more complicated than ffnet, my first post here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 14:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13615155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreaming_baka/pseuds/dreaming_baka
Summary: Toris contemplates the beauty of winter and how his love of it might kill him one day.





	For the Love of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea out of nowhere. It’s been uh, in my notebook for ~~years~~ awhile so I thought I might as well put it out here. I also tried to write in present tense ~~because I’m a glutton for pain~~ for maybe the first time in my life. And goodness, what a mess.

Toris always finds it quite difficult to describe his feelings regarding the Belorussian girl. Whenever someone questions him, his mind works up a storm. There are so many details to explain that it’s tough to choose what to describe first. Then soon, like always, everything in his mind comes to a halt and he’d end up with that dreamy look. The blank look that everyone interprets the same way: that he’s delusional, infatuated, and obsessed.

Even now, as he hears her approaching footsteps, he could do nothing but simply admire her. How confident her gaze is. Her hair falling around her perfectly as if orchestrated. The way she carries herself. As a curious wanderer who becomes lost in the enchanted snowy woods, he too finds himself captivated by this beautiful scene that unfolded before him. Although he had witness this countless times before, it still did not fail to take his breath away (sometimes quite  _literally_ ).

He finally notes the glare that she had worn all along. It’s as it is, the calm before the storm. There is nothing he can do to stop it from happening. Oh yes, he certainly learnt this from his past experiences. He can only wait out the storm; he cannot change it nor stop it. As he contemplates this, she suddenly rushes towards him, creating a cold wind that pricks his skin. He watches her with unusual fascination despite possessing the knowledge of what was about to happen.

Indeed, what everyone had said about him was, in some sense, probably all true. Even he can’t deny those allegations about himself, after all, he is madly in love. Love tends to lead people in making irrational decisions. Even during times like these, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her, to push her away, or to leave her alone.

Oh, it would be so easy. When did he realize that? He can’t remember. When he had dared, her usual capable looking arms felt so thin under his grasp. But that is exactly why she is dangerous. Her features, as delicate as porcelain, should be handled with great care. One should not carelessly touch her else she might break.

That’s always the impression beauty gave off. She lures you in without so much of a care and before you know it, traps you into her scheme. Everything flows into a course of action in which she hardly even realizes. When everything is done and over, she doesn’t even realize you were ever there.

Toris knows very well. Beauty is dangerous.

Finally, she erupts into a storm, at last ending the suspense in the air. It’s like the storm of thoughts he has of her coalescing into a visual form. The storm that she is, with the fierceness of winter -as lovely and delicate it had once looked- can pierce you right through your heart.

And that beautiful winter storm had undoubtedly caught him, threatening to freeze his heart. It had already numbed his mind, which he allowed to happen when he willingly choose to be captured. He can no longer think straight (not that he was  _anyway_ , but even more so) with a sudden shock of frost at his throat, snaking around until it surrounds his neck.

Many perish in storms because they are caught unprepared. Toris is never caught unaware. However, he isn’t sure he is ever prepared. Even with his many experiences of winter, there is never one that is the same. But that is precisely why he loves it. No matter how much time has pass, he is still enraptured. How can one describe such a feeling in a few words? He knows it is impossible. But even so, he tries to search for them.

He blinks. For a moment, he has some breathing space. He gazes down at her, his lips slightly parting to speak. But he isn’t allowed. She silences him with a flare of her grasp. Just when the storm seemed to warm up and melt from his body heat, it picks up again, this time with more fierceness than before.

The storm that is unforgiving and insensitive to his pain. The storm that is simply taking, taking, taking. Taking everything away from him. His legs give way and he drops onto the floor unceremoniously. Slowly but surely, his life is leaving his body. He struggles to see the eye of the storm but to no avail. Closing his eyes, he waits for an end. It was then, at that precise moment, that she stops. As quickly as she had flourished, she had stopped.

Toris gasps for breath, the frost at his neck gone. It took him a moment to realize that the snowstorm did not fully leave yet. It had become quiet, gentle, and melancholic. The snow fell slowly, drifting from the sky into the ground softly. He remembers this scene quite well, the peace that arrives after the destruction. These are some of the moments when winter is most peaceful. The snow drifts onto his cheek softly, melting and leaving a trail on his face.

Vaguely, he hears her voice, hoarse with tears, “I hate you.”

And he smiles.


End file.
